


Some Kind of Resolution

by CirrusGrey



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Martin returns, Mind Reading, bit of angst too but more fluffy than not, episode 128 spoilers, gratuitous cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 09:42:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17999456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirrusGrey/pseuds/CirrusGrey
Summary: SPOILERS FOR MAG 128!Jon spun around, desperate to stop the other man from leaving. “Martin- ”"Wait,"said the Archivist, and Martin froze in his tracks.





	Some Kind of Resolution

**Author's Note:**

> Title from ["No Light, No Light"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ATfUdaZQLMA) by Florence and the Machine.

Jon was sitting at his desk, listening. He had been doing that a lot recently. There was trouble coming, of that he was certain, but he didn’t know when, and he didn’t know how to stop it. So he sat, and listened, and hoped a statement would call out to him.

It was dangerous, of course. Feeding the side of himself that was no longer human. The feeling of being watched was such a constant presence that he barely even noticed it now, but it always increased when he used his powers willingly, compelling the truth from someone or stretching his awareness out through the world in the hopes that some useful knowledge would make itself known to him.

He had told Basira it was like having a door in his mind, with the weight of the ocean pressing in from the other side. If that was the case, than what he was doing now was akin to turning the handle - not opening the door, but loosening the seals around it ever so slightly, so that a drop or two might slip through the cracks. Keep it too tight, and he’d never learn anything. Push it too far…

He didn’t have a better plan, though, and he _needed_ to know. So he held his breath, turned the handle, and _listened._

It had been quiet today, in the normal sense of the word as well as the supernatural. No one came down to the Archives who didn’t work there, and with Melanie still avoiding him and Basira gone… But no, he had promised to try not to think about her while she was away.

Regardless, it had been quiet, and so he was able to notice things that might otherwise have been drowned out by the noise of people around him. There was a… sound. Sort of. A faint buzzing against his consciousness that could almost be likened to static, if it were to actually make a noise. It was different than the way statements had called out to him in the past, less insistent upon his attention, but… still there. Still calling to him.

Jon stood, and began to follow it.

It was difficult. While not a sound in any traditional sense of the word, it was still nearly drowned out in the noise of his footsteps, and placing the direction it came from was more a matter of guesswork than anything else. Or perhaps there was something else guiding him, some invisible thread of instinct, for when he rounded a corner deep in the storage section of the Archives he found himself face to face with Martin, who was hurrying in the other direction.

Martin stopped dead in his tracks, nearly dropping the stack of papers he was clutching to his chest. The blood drained from his face.

“Jon! Wh- what are you doing here?”

“I- I heard something- I heard _you_ , I suppose.” And it wasn’t what Jon had been looking for, but it was what he had wanted to find. Martin’s continued absence had been preying on his mind, and he found his heart lifting at the opportunity to finally find out what was going on. “What are _you_ doing here?”

Martin held up the papers like a shield. “Evidence. Proof.”

Jon blinked at him in confusion. “What?”

But Martin just shook his head. “I can’t- I can’t talk to you about it, Jon.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t, okay?” There was a note to his voice that was half pleading, half angry, as though it were Jon’s fault Martin was being so elusive. It struck at something in Jon’s chest, sending his heart plummeting again. It seemed he would not be getting any answers today.

He fought to keep the bitterness from his voice. “Look, what’s going on, Martin? You’ve barely spoken a word to me since I woke up, I’ve hardly even seen you! I can’t stop you from avoiding me, if that’s what you really want, but I think I deserve- ” he stopped himself, took a deep breath. “I would hope, after all we’ve been through, I’d at least have earned an explanation.”

Something closed off in Martin’s face, and he squared his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Jon. I need to go.”

“Martin…” But Martin was already pushing past him, heading for the door. Jon squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the urge to reach out and grab his arm, shake the answers out of him. That wasn’t the way to go about it, though, it would just drive Martin away from him more. He couldn’t risk burning any more bridges than he already had. There had to be something he could say, some apology or plea he could make that would get Martin to turn around and tell him everything. He couldn’t just let him walk away again, not without getting some answers first.

His thoughts were scattered, jumping between wanting to make things right with Martin and the growing need to _know._ He could feel pressure in his head, an ocean of knowledge pressing in on him, but it wasn’t enough, never enough, because it couldn’t tell him how to make things right with Martin and it couldn’t tell him what Martin knew and he needed to _know_ and Martin was leaving and he needed to _stop him-_

Jon spun around, desperate to stop the other man from leaving.

“Martin- ”

~~~~~

 **_"Wait,"_ ** said the Archivist, and Martin froze in his tracks.

There was a crackling sense of power in the air, and without any conscious effort on his part he found himself turning around again to face Jon. To face the Archivist.

He was staring at Martin, eyes narrowed in concentration, and the sensation of being _watched_ was almost unbearable. It wasn't just a physical thing - he knew, somehow, that every thought going through his head was being seen and analyzed, catalogued and filed away for future reference. He tried to take a step backward, but his legs were not his own and he found himself frozen in place.

Martin opened his mouth, tried to choke out a question - “J-Jon, what- ?” -  but there was no response from the figure across from him. And then the feeling of being _known_ grew stronger.

It was a sucking, hollow sensation. Memories flashed through his mind against his will, playing in reverse as they were pulled from him - sadness and guilt as he tried to avoid talking to Jon, shock at running into him in the first place, annoyance at Peter for making _him_ fetch the supposedly crucial statements from Dekker when he was already overwhelmed with the work of practically running the Institute.

“Jon, _stop!”_

Farther back: Crushing despair when he realized he _still_ wasn't allowed to talk to Jon, overwhelming relief when he found out he was awake, desperation and resignation when agreeing to the deal with Peter - the details of the deal were pulled out of him in an instant, and he gasped in mingled worry and relief that Jon would finally _know_ \- terror when the Flesh attacked, sorrow for his mother, the creeping, aching, _need_ for Jon to just _wake up already-_

“Stop!” He was crying, he knew, though the cascade of past emotions running through him was so intense he could barely feel it. “Jon, stop it! _Please!”_

 **_“N-_ ** no!” The crushing weight of being _known_ disappeared, and Jon stumbled back, colliding with a wall of shelves. “No, no, I didn't want- I only meant to- I'm s-sorry, Martin, I'm so sorry…” he was shaking, and his eyes were wide with fear - though whether he was afraid of himself, or afraid that Martin might leave, was impossible to judge.

Small shivers were running through Martin's body as well, and he wanted desperately to convince himself they were from fear. He knew it was a lie, though.

These past few months… he hadn't been _numb,_ not exactly, just… muted. Any emotion he felt seemed to come at him from a long way away, the intensity stolen from it by the overarching loneliness that came from spending time with Peter. Then Jon had looked at him, and it had all come rushing back with the memories: a cascading avalanche of feeling rising through him to fill the hollowness he had been living with. It was cathartic, in a way, though it had left him drained.

But exhaustion was not what was sending shivers up his spine. The way Jon had looked at him, like he was the only thing that mattered in the world - like finding out his story would unlock the secrets of the universe - Martin had never felt anything like it. To have it cut off so suddenly, when only a small part of all he was had become known, had left him feeling disconnected and _aching._ He _longed_ for Jon to look at him like that again.

“I'm _sorry,_ Martin.” Jon’s voice shook. Martin wondered if it hurt him too, if only knowing a piece felt as jarringly, achingly _wrong_ as only party being known.

He should walk away, of course. Whatever this new ability of Jon’s was, it was most likely dangerous for both of them. And Martin was supposed to be keeping his distance. Even so...

He took three quick steps forward, bringing himself face to face with Jon.

“Take it.”

“Wh- what?”

Martin shook his head. Distance be damned. Whatever small core of loneliness he had managed to cultivate over the past few months - whatever corner of his soul he had frozen in ice - was gone already. And dangerous or not, it was hurting both of them to try to stop what had already begun. He rested his hands on Jon’s shoulders, looking him in the eye.

 _“Take it,_ Jon. Whatever you need to know _._ Please.”

And Jon _looked_ at him.

It was a gentler pull, now that he wasn’t fighting it. Martin could feel memories rising, but they lacked the urgency of before. He shuddered, letting them wash over him. Sorrow for Tim, fear for those heading off to face the Unknowing, determination to carry out his plan. They began to blur together as the memories became more distant, half-recalled thoughts and feelings weaving into a tangled web that told more of who Martin was than what he had done. Threaded throughout it all was an intense warmth and affection for the man in front of him, Jon or the Archivist or both, who saw it all without judgement and accepted him anyway.

The sensations faded slowly, and Martin came back to the present moment with a sigh, opening his eyes. He had leaned forward at some point, and his forehead was resting against Jon’s. His hands were still on Jon’s shoulders, and he noted with some surprise that Jon’s own had come up to clutch at his shirt, holding him close. Jon’s eyes were wide with wonder, and Martin took a moment to idly speculate how he could focus from such a close range. His own eyes were already feeling strained. It was probably something supernatural, he decided.

“Martin…”

Jon’s voice was no more than whisper, but it was enough to shock Martin out of his daze. He stepped back, letting his hands fall from Jon’s shoulders.

“S-sorry, I didn’t realize- I mean, I didn’t mean to get so close.”

Jon shook his head, stepping away from the shelf to follow Martin. “N-no, it’s, it’s fine, I…” He frowned slightly, and his eyes went unfocused. “It’s… it’s fine…” His legs gave out, and if Martin hadn’t been standing so close he would have keeled over onto the floor. As it was, Martin managed to get an arm around his waist to hold him up, the other thrown out to try to maintain his own balance.

He panicked for a second, thinking something had gone horribly wrong - but then he felt the gentle breaths against his neck where Jon’s head rested on his shoulder, and the steady heartbeat against the hand he had placed to Jon’s back. He hadn’t fallen back into a coma, or been struck down by some supernatural retribution because Martin had broken his deal with Peter - he was asleep.

Martin didn’t try to fight the fond smile that arose with this realization. Reading statements had been tiring for Jon when he first started. It made sense that this new power would take its toll as well.

Of course, that left Martin with a sleeping Archivist and nowhere to put him. He couldn’t stay here holding him forever. Jon was heavier than he looked, and Martin’s arms were already getting tired from trying to keep him upright. He ought to find a chair to leave Jon in, grab Dekker's statements - where _had_ they gone? He didn't remember dropping them - and get back to his office. Find some excuse he could give Peter as to why he'd broken their deal. Start isolating himself again to make up for the progress he'd lost today.

He tightened his arms around Jon, gathering the bony Archivist closer to himself. Jon murmured slightly, a word that sounded an awful lot like Martin’s name.

Yes. That was what he ought to do.

~~~~~

Jon woke up slowly. There were thoughts and feelings hanging around his head that were not his own, even though the details were fading. Part of him wanted to leap up and grab a pen, commit them to paper before they were lost entirely, but he pushed it aside. This was not just another statement to be recorded. This was knowledge, deep, intimate knowledge of another person, that he had stolen and then been gifted willingly in the assumption that it would go no further. Gifted by a person who trusted him completely despite his waning humanity, and even, it seemed… loved him.

Jon's chest felt warm at the thought, which surprised him. He'd never given much conscious thought to the possibility of a romantic relationship with Martin, but it seemed his heart had been doing the work for him. It was definitely something he wanted, if they ever got the chance.

Which was quite a big if, if he was recalling Martin's memories correctly. The deal he had struck with Lukas was quite stringent regarding interacting with people, and Jon appeared to be number one on the do-not-contact list. It went a fair ways to explaining why Martin had been avoiding him, and if the situation was as serious as Martin thought it was, Jon would be hard-pressed to draw him out of the self-imposed isolation.

Still, depending on what Martin found in Dekker's statements, they might be able to find another way…

He shifted, opening his eyes, and finally noticed his surroundings.

He was in the Archive's front room, stretched out on the couch that was intended for people who were waiting to give their statements. It was quite a ways from the storage area where he had collapsed, and he was surprised Martin had moved him so far - he would have expected to wake up in his office. There was a blanket spread over his legs, and he was leaning back against something warm.

He reached a hand behind himself, wondering, and encountered the soft cotton of a shirt. He twisted his fingers in it, holding tight. “Martin?”

“I'm here.”

“Martin.” Jon's eyes slid shut, and he sighed in relief. Not gone, then. “How long have I been out?”

“A few hours. I didn't want to wake you.”

“Thank you.” Jon tried to sit up, but he was more tired than he had thought. All he managed was to turn himself around, so that instead of leaning back against Martin he was leaning forward into him, one arm draped across his chest and his face resting on his shoulder. It was, he had to admit, quite an improvement.

Martin's breath caught slightly as Jon settled in against him.

“J-Jon? What, um. What are you doing?”

“Getting comfortable.” He pressed his face into Martin's shoulder, then remembered - he had seen Martin's thoughts. Martin hadn't seen _his._ “I've missed you, Martin. And, well… your feelings are reciprocated.”

“Oh.” Martin sounded slightly breathless. After a moment, one of his arms came up to encircle Jon, drawing him closer. “That's… that's good to know.”

“Yes.” Jon relaxed against him, letting himself go utterly boneless in Martin's embrace. He was still so tired. “Please don't leave again.”

There was a smile in Martin's voice. “I won't. I've been reading Dekker's statements while you were asleep. I don't think we need the Lonely to stop what's coming.”

“Good.” He fell silent. He'd need to ask about that later, find out what Martin's new plan was, but… for now, he could allow himself to relax, simply enjoying the feeling of having Martin back and the warmth of his presence.

After a moment he felt Martin shift to try and look at him. “Jon?”

“Mmhm. I'm awake.”

“You don't sound awake.”

“I'm talking, aren't I?”

“Jon.”

“Fine.” He made an effort, managing to drag himself into what was roughly a sitting position even if he was still mostly leaning on Martin for support. “What's the matter?”

Martin's face was only a few inches from his own, and Jon could read the hesitation in every line of it. “Do you really mean it? This isn't just some, some- _side effect,_ or, or something, of taking my statement?”

It was Jon's turn to frown. “Martin. If you're referring to whether I truly have romantic inclinations towards you, then _yes._ And it's not because of what happened earlier. That may have helped me… reassess my priorities, as if were, but it's not why I'm feeling this way. I took a statement from the remaining half of Breekon and Hope a few days ago, and I can assure you I had no desire to cuddle with it afterwards. The tiredness, yes, that is a side effect. This -” he lifted a hand, brushed it across Martin's cheek. “This is real.”

“Oh.” Martin tilted his head into Jon's palm, almost seeming to not notice he was doing so. Jon smiled, shifting his hand to run it through Martin's hair. Martin's eyes drifted closed, his lips parting slightly. “Jon…”

And what could Jon do in response to that, except kiss him?

Martin made a small noise when their mouths connected, jumping in surprise. As soon as he worked out what was going on he leaned into it, raising a hand to Jon's shoulder to draw him closer. Jon shifted forward with the movement, deepening the kiss and drawing another pleased sound from Martin.

They stayed like that for a while, reveling in the nearness of each other. Then Martin froze, and pulled back, a confused look on his face.

“Wait. Breekon and Hope? The delivery men?”

“Hm?” Jon leaned back a bit, trying to clear his head so he could remember what had prompted Martin's question. “Oh. Yes. One of them survived the Unknowing, and decided to make a final delivery.”

Martin gave a slightly hysterical laugh, his hand tightening on Jon's shoulder. “Jon, how much have I missed?”

“Quite a lot, actually. I- I'll tell you about it later. For now…” Jon leaned forward, kissed him again. He didn't want to think about the danger they still faced. “Stay with me?”

Martin smiled and breathed out, relaxing back into the couch and pulling Jon with him. “You don't even have to ask, Jon,” he said, and perhaps not all the knowledge had faded from Jon's mind, because he could recognize every shift of Martin's expression and subtly to his voice that signaled his happiness and sincerity. “I'm not going anywhere.”


End file.
